


The Taming of the Wolf

by DestiniesEntwined



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-01
Updated: 2015-05-04
Packaged: 2018-03-26 13:26:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3852544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DestiniesEntwined/pseuds/DestiniesEntwined
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-Canon Solavellan. Nearly two years have passed and Solas' conscience is gnawing at him, while the Lady Inquisitor carries out her duties with a certain elf still on her mind. A mysterious Tome and unnerving dreams. The truth will finally be revealed, but what will she do with it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Cryptic Whispers

**Author's Note:**

> First story for Solavellan. SO MANY FEELS. I use neutral terms for Lavellan, like the game does, so everyone gets to envision their own Lavellan in the story. This Lavellan, however, story-wise is based on my own: Mage, who let Morrigan have the Well, and removed the vallaslin. I did not play an angry/vengeful Inquisitor. See for yourself! I feel like I came up with a new twist on an old idea for post-canon Solavellan. Here is the first of three parts!
> 
> Enjoy! And don't forget to let me know what you think, positive or otherwise, constructive criticisms welcome. :)

The Taming of the Wolf

The eerie swirling hue of the veil sky blanketed the landscape as the weary wanderer placed one foot in front of the other. The many months that had passed, nearly two years since Corypheus met his end at the hand of the woman he loved, Solas had remained hidden beyond the Veil. Though, it seemed like an eternity. Each step forward took him further into his flight from everything that had happened.

And everything that had gone wrong.

He had he lost the object he had felt was the key to righting all the wrongs of the past, as well as his greatest source of power, when the orb had broken in pieces. And with that sacred sphere, he had lost the last shred of hope of saving his people. The Elvhen were no longer the people they had been. The modern elves, the Dalish and city elves, had lost so much of their true history, and succumbed to a more human way of life.

But  _she_ , the Lavellan who had changed the present world through her power and thirst for truth, was the only thing left that his heart clung to in the mundane world. She not only had changed  _him_. Her incredibly strong spirit and pure intention could still be monumental in reshaping how the all mortals, not just the elves, view the gods, the fade and true magic.

Mythal had become a stumbling block, and eliminating her from the equation by absorbing her spirit and was the easier task. He had hoped that it would be enough to begin repairing the damage his choices had caused. But he had once again been proved wrong, much to his chagrin. Deep down, he knew his beautiful mage would be disappointed in him for that underhanded move. But there was so much she didn't know. The lone rebel wondered if she could ever truly understand.

Once again, Solas's conscience gnawed at his resolve. With every passing day, as he dwelt on his options and tried to formulate a new course of action, the infamous Fen'Harel felt doubt worming its way into his heart.

He recalled Varric's rebuttal concerning the story of the lonely fisherman. His dwarven companion's words had struck a chord back then, daring Solas to shift his perspective.

_"...He went on living. He lost everyone, but he still got up every morning. He made a life, even if it was alone. That's the world. Everything you build, it tears down. Everything you've got, it takes — and it's gone forever. The only choices you get are to lie down and die or keep going. He kept going. That's as close to beating the world as anyone gets."_

He considered the plausibility of that truth, which he had yet to accept. Solas had always been the one to fight for progress, to push forward no matter what the cost. But now, the Dread Wolf was forced to reevaluate all the sacrifices he had made to bring about the future he had envisioned, and how in his slumber, the world had indeed torn his aspirations apart. Still, he refused to believe that all of it was truly gone forever. He refused to lie down and die, never mind alone. What the great Fen'Harel had not foreseen was finding something that made his resolve waver: Some _one_ , rather, who had inadvertently provoked a change of heart in the feared God of Rebellion. Progress as an act of love for others and the greater good, rather than sheer righteousness, was such a foreign ideal. One that was too mortal for his liking, yet it moved him despite himself.

_Could 'forward' simply not be in the direction that I perceived?_

The single consideration, the idea that he may have been  _wrong_  in his attempt to reverse the thousands of years of change that his legendary actions had sparked, stung his pride like a viper. Cringing, he shook himself momentarily of the notion.

Once again as he considered the Inquisitor, her notion of unifying Thedas in peace, and unmasking the truths of their world.

_She didn't flinch at the thought of letting me remove her vallaslin. She welcomes change, if it means doing what is right. Would ma vhenan understand my intentions if I were to tell her the truth?_

His gave pause as he caught himself referring to her so intimately. Would he ever truly be able to let her go? And would he be betraying himself and his goals if he returned to her? Or would he be possibly be truly moving toward progress once again?

_"Ar lath ma, vhenan..."_

Those words had left his lips so easily. The one and only time he had spoken them, and they were, then and now, an undeniable truth. It was the first time he had ever let anyone in. The first time he had faith in someone other than himself. His ground had been shaken by a mortal's singular bright existence.

The Lady Lavellan really had changed  _everything._

_Has the world torn down everything I've built-demolished everything I have striven for? There must still be a means to that end...but no matter how much I keep moving, I am, regrettably, getting nowhere. And now, I can't help but wonder...Was leaving her side truly the way? Was this Fate's revolt against my own revolution?_

He growled in frustration. There was only one way to know.

* * *

The sun slipped away behind the glistening mountains, shadows of dusk sweeping over Skyhold. With well over a year having passed, the Inquisition had continued to provide aid and protection to citizens of Thedas. Their reach of influence and involvement had extended well beyond the borders of Ferelden and Orlais. Despite the heavy workload, reparations and changes in her guard, she remained strong with the support of the Empress and her army as well as the backing of her former spymaster, Leliana, the new divine and head of the Chantry. But during the days she spent in the grand fortress when home from an expedition, it was difficult to avoid the painful reminders of one who was missing. Today had been one of those days, that she had sat in the study at the bottom of the rotunda, pondering the symbolism that lay within the elegant artwork her long-lost lover had created. As frustrated as she was with him, Lady Lavellan knew Solas never did anything without good reason. He was rational, intelligent, calculating yet still caring. She had a feeling that he was hiding to protect her from something.

_Why wouldn't he let me decide for myself? Or, at the very least, to let him set off on his own, knowing what he had to do?_

Now, as evening fell upon the Frostbacks, the exhausted elf gazed upon her staff poised at the ready near the stairwell of her quarters before lighting candles and torches to fend off the encroaching shadows in her room. The flicker of fire held the hope of assuaging her escalating nerves.

She had been plagued by a recent string of unsettling dreams that had begun a couple nights prior, leaving her with an ominous gut feeling that she was about to be drawn into something she'd never imagined possible.

On the first night, she dreamt that she had been wandering the lush forestry of the Arbor Wilds. It was oddly quiet and void of other life: no wildlife, no people. She found herself drawn to the Temple. The unwavering Inquisitor gave the old gate a shove. A curious sensation crept over her as she made her way up the old stone steps, the feeling of being watched. The guardians of the temple were gone, now, and not a soul could be found. It was unnerving to be so utterly alone in a place she last saw wrought with chaos. Indiscernible whispers beckoned her forward.

But somewhere in the back of her mind, Solas's voice echoed.  _"The Veil is thin here. Can you feel it in your skin, tingling?"_

It dawned on her that she could, in fact feel the sensation of nearly tangible spiritual energy all around her. Perhaps she was being watched over by the spirits of those who she had fought for. Although unsure of its identity, she felt no malevolence in whatever the presence may have been. Wandering into the courtyard, the Lady Lavellan found herself in front of the great statue of Fen'Harel.

There, at the front paws of the wolf, lay a tome marked with what resembled vallaslin, however completely unfamiliar. When she opened it, pages flipping in the light breeze, it was blank. Puzzled, she brushed her hand over the old parchment. At her touch, suddenly ancient writings began revealing themselves. After going through a few pages, she realized that her limited literacy in the old language rendered reading it fairly difficult.

When she awoke the next morning, to her utter shock, the tome lay on her desk in the corner of her room, empty once more. Bewildered by its sudden appearance, she regarded it a moment before taking any action. Attempting to recreate the dream, she touched the first page...

To no avail.

She noted that there may be a spell that could unlock the tome. But would have to wait for her arcanist, Dagna, to return from a mission to analyze it. Morrigan would still be able to help her read it, as far as she knew, having taken on the power of the well. But still it would take as long as Dagna needed to decipher the magic that unlocked its secrets.

During the second night, her dream had her galloping across the Plains on her horse, and decided to stop at the river, near where once stood a Dalish encampment, to let it drink. She sat on the banks, as the incredibly tall trees shaded over her and her companion as they rested. Her eyes drifted shut, delighting in the trickling of the river over stones and moss.

Suddenly the sound of leaves and grass crunching in a slow, gentle approach snapped her back to attention. There sat, about 20 paces from her, an extraordinarily large black wolf on the riverbank. But unlike the black wolves common to the plains, its half-dozen eyes were a haunting silver, rather than a fierce gold.

She stood cautiously to reach for her staff, but it was too far from her grasp. Panic washed over her as the wolf approached slowly. Uncharacteristically nonthreatening in its behavior, it came over, looked at her and rested on its haunches, taller than her and a little too close for comfort. She cocked her head to the side, trying to assess what was happening, when she remembered the tome at the statue the night before.

"Did you leave me that tome?" she asked it, deciding that within a dream anything is possible.

The ominous beast bowed its head slowly, as if in affirmation.

_Could this be..?_  The intrigued inquisitor swallowed hard.

"Am I correct in assuming that you are Fen'Harel, the Dread Wolf of Elvhen legend?"

Once again a slow graceful bow of its head signaled that she was being graced with the presence of a god. Her nerves were rattled, the god of deception and rebellion was visiting her in her sleep. It suddenly occurred to her that she was his target in some way, shape or form. This could be a blessing, or this could become a terrible curse. It all depended on how much stock she would put in Solas's insights on the ancient ones.

Despite the fact that he is the most fearsome god in all of Elvhen lore, her courage was not shaken. She was willing to give the benefit of the doubt that he was not here to harm her, at least in that moment. She would find out his purpose.

"With all due respect, I am wondering to what pleasure I owe the visit of a god."

The beast refused to speak, but lay down beside her and then seemed to wordlessly implore her to respond in kind. With a small gasp, she did as she was requested, and sat next to the intimidating immortal. As they sat in silence, much of Solas' knowledge about Dalish history and lore came to her racing mind. Her heart softened at the realization that she was able to handle this situation with tact because of his wisdom.

Silent, restrained tears began to form in bittersweet nostalgia.

As if sensing it, the wolf turned and regarded her, eyes glistening as if waiting for explanation.

"I beg your pardon. I had someone very dear to me, on quite a few occasions, discuss how we present-day elves have gotten our history wrong. He was very wise, and very special. But it's because of those words that I feel like the truth of your story is far from what I know it to be," she admitted plainly.

The daunting creature's grey-blue eyes held her gaze for a moment before turning away.

"I mean no disrespect," she reassured, nearly placing her hand on his dark fur, but stopping herself in hesitation. "Actually quite the opposite. I am flattered that for, whatever your reason, you chose to give me the tome," she further explained, all the while praying she hadn't angered the daunting deity.

It turned back to face her as she continued to sit in a relaxed stance, legs outstretched towards the water.

"I promise you, Great Wolf, that I will get it translated and read it immediately," she finished. "Admittedly, I haven't studied Ancient Elvish for long...but I want to understand. I just wish that the one person who could have helped me with that was still around."

The Beast remained stoic, yet by her side, gazing across the river into nothing. Familiar, like a dog to its master. The intuitive Inquisitor wrestled with the conflicting emotions of trepidation and empathy. With a sigh, she looked the god in the face.

"No wonder the gods are disgusted with us. We have no clue...but I hope to change that."

Without warning, the Great Dread Wolf, most fearsome of the gods, in a show of trust, placed his muzzle in her lap and exhaled.

She had awoken abruptly from the second dream in utter disbelief. The Lady Inquisitor, hero of Thedas, was being called upon by Fen'Harel himself. The task was complicated, and she still felt guarded. The internal argument between head and heart had her asking herself,  _"What would Solas have to say about this?"_

Her heart already knew the answer: To be intelligent and reasonable. She would be rightfully cautious of the powerful being, yet open-minded to another side of the story.

So here, on the third evening, in the privacy of her ornate suite at the top of Skyhold, the perplexed mage paced around her room, occasionally looking to the snowy mountains, glistening in the moonlight, as if they held an answer. Impatience was whittling away at her sanity. Another night could not go by with the possibility of the Dread Wolf visiting her once again without any further knowledge. Pausing occasionally by her desk to stare at the ancient leather-bound tome. Finally she gave in and walked over to her desk, turning the book to face her.

_Bound in some kind of leather, likely canine...but those markings..._

It finally occurred her.

"This...is likely the original mark of Fen'Harel," she spoke aloud. As she let those words slip from her tongue, she recalled his many names. "He Who Hunts Alone, Roamer of the Beyond and Bringer of Nightmares...Lord of Tricksters, God of Deception...God of Rebellion, The Great Wolf."

"Roamer of the Beyond..." she repeated to herself. "His myth and power are strongly connected to the Fade." Eyes wide in revelation, she declared, "That just might be it. And worth a try, at least."

Opening the book with her right hand, a deep breath filled her lungs and the energy of magic tingled down her arm into her left hand, summoning the power of the Fade through the Anchor.

Holding her breath, Lavellan passed her hand over the the front page. As the green haze shimmered and dispersed, leaving black ink-like markings in its wake. Elvhen glyphs were written above and below an all too familiar image: two wolves howling.

"The statue in Din'an Hanin...The Knights' Guardians...Solas's painting..."

"Era Fen'Harel, Vir Revasan...The Story of the Dread Wolf, the Path of Freedom."

Breath rushed through her parted lips in a sigh.

_If he were here, he could have been there with me and spoken to Fen'Harel. He could have helped me with the mystery being revealed to me. But he's long gone, it seems, never to return._

She unveiled over twenty more pages which were covered in text, hoping for more imagery, possible clues, but came up at a loss.

With more questions than even before, she pulled back the heavy blankets on her bed to settle in for the night. The link between the wolves of the Emerald graves, The Inquisition, and Fen'Harel were all linked somehow...

_And the one person who can give me the answer is nowhere to be found._

Her weary mind continued pondering as she floated off into slumber.

Her eyes opened to the sight of a familiar waterfall. The scene took her breath away. It was the beautiful lagoon  _he_ had brought her to when he removed her vallaslin, where they shared their last precious moment together.

_...Before everything fell apart. I must be really have him on my mind if this is where my dream brings me._

She was sitting against a tree at the water's edge. The sound of crickets and other night creatures mingled with the steady tumble of the cascade before her.

Feeling nostalgic, she stood to take a walk around in the serenity of the night.

"Are you enjoying the book I gave you, Vhenan?"


	2. Earnest Words

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank You to everyone reading/following my little story! I hope you all enjoy this new chapter! Extra love to those who send me feedback (reviews/kudos) and let me know what you're thinking!
> 
> I have put a lot of thought, research/study (verifying dialogue, codex, lore, language, etc.), and my own heartfelt emotions as I dug into Solas's psyche. I have a lot of thoughts and speculations on our dear wolf. And I hope that all the effort is apparent to my readers.

The warmth and fluidity of that voice calling from behind her stopped her in her tracks, breath hitching in her throat. Wide eyed, she turned slowly toward the source of the voice, trying to comprehend both his presence and words.

Finally, she beheld the beautiful face that haunted her thoughts all too often. But to her utter shock, his appearance was quite different.

Despite being in his favorite battlemage armor, adorned with his wolf pelt, there were beautiful long tresses, brown hair falling over his shoulders, swept back and restrained by a circlet of sorts that looked very much like teeth and bone of an animal, revealing a close-shaved undercut.

Those pale eyes of his glinted in the moonlight.

The sense of relief upon seeing him momentarily assuaged her confusion. But in the next heartbeat, her chest tightened as all the worry, sorrow and frustration seemed to come back to her in a grand deluge. Lavellan could only cover her lips as she choked back a sob.

His gaze fell in remorse, seeing the evidence of the pain his desertion had inflicted. Regret washed over him in a way he never knew possible. He hadn't wanted it to be this way, but it was necessary at the time.

Taking a few slow steps forward, he drew closer, wanting nothing but to reach for her.

"Not a day has passed, vhenan, that I haven't wished to see you," he confessed. "But I had to try to find a way to fix things on my own. It was a task only I could take on...or so I had thought."

She realized what he meant: the broken orb. But that didn't explain why it had to be him, nor what he meant a moment ago.

"You know very well that I am an understanding and reasonable woman, Solas. You could have told me the truth the _first_ time we were in this place together. Just like you had about the vallaslin-you gave me the choice of how to handle those truths. You could have told me you were going to have to go away. I would have let you go, knowing that you needed to leave. I wouldn't stop loving you either way!" Her anger, in every right, telling him what he should have done.

"You told me that I was the first person you ever trusted, that I 'changed everything', yet you couldn't even give me the respect of a proper farewell? I deserved more than for you to panic and push me away," she continued, unleashing nearly two years of frustrations.

With a heavy exhalation, he closed the distance between them.

"You are absolutely right. I have made some indelible mistakes over the millennia, legendary ones, in fact..." the handsome elf replied with grimace. "And turning my back on you was one of them." He saw her eyes widen at his declaration. He fought the undeniable urge to kiss her as he paused and collected his thoughts. "You  _did_  change everything...and that's why I am here to talk with you."

He ran a gentle hand over her soft locks before repeating himself.

"And it's also why I left you that tome."

In her initial confusion, she argued with him.

"But last night, the Great Wolf told me he..."

Her words drifted off as silver eyes held her in dire regard.

_Those eyes..._

He nodded, slowly and deliberately.

Her hand covered her mouth in shock, and she stepped back, shaking her head as she put all the little pieces together.

"You, Solas...are-"

"Roamer of the Beyond...Bringer of Nightmares," he began nonchalantly rattling off some of the names he'd been given over the centuries. "The Great Wolf, He Who Hunts Alone, God of Deception...God of Rebellion..."

"Fen'Harel..." she breathed, surprised by the sound of her own voice as she uttered his true name aloud. The painful realization twisted tightly in her bosom. "I fell in love with...the Dread Wolf?"

He could see the confusion passing over her features, and now was the time to stop her before she went down the rabbit trail.

"Listen to me carefully," he held her gently by the shoulders, softly commanding her attention. "I spent so much time telling you about the falsehood of your lore, because _I_ know what really happened and why. I was  _there_. I wanted to be able to tell you the truth, and not have you jump to the easy conclusion that-"

"I was being deceived," she interjected gravely.

Solas nodded, the stoic mask dissolved into a visage of pain and guilt at her words. He knew that she had instantly felt that doubt, and once again it was his own fault.

"I have been trying to right the wrongs that I caused centuries ago when I was a cocky, young elf, drunk on power. I slept ages away as I wandered the Fade. When I awoke, realizing I had been the catalyst of the decimation of elvhen culture and magic, I then made an equally regrettable choice as I tried to correct my first blunder," he summarized, trying to get quickly to his point. "And the path to fixing  _all_  of it..." He cupped her face with his hand, looking intently into her troubled eyes. "It led to  _you_ , the single most brilliant being I have encountered in my long lifetime. And I wronged you by not telling you all this when I had the chance. And now I implore you to hear me out."

His eyes besought her.

"I have realized that, for so many reasons, I can't bear to lose you. I knew it back when we first kissed: That losing you would be insufferable. But I forced myself to endure it, just for the chance to know what it was to truly be loved."

Her heart swirled with emotions. Comforted by his presence, flabbergasted by his revelation, flattered that a  _god_  holds her so dearly, and terrified by the truth of what it all means.

"Ir abelas, vhenan..." His voice ached, his anguish deep and true.

She placed a hand on his chest to reaffirm that it was truly him, even if only a dream.

"Solas...that name, the old village you said you were from...it lay in ruins. But it's still the truth, isn't it? You were from there, but hundreds of years ago," she reasoned aloud. She marveled at the thought that this man she had grown to love and admire was really an ancient elvhen, having extended his life for so long through the absolute mastery of the very magic she also used. "It makes more sense that your wisdom and intelligence comes with the knowledge of ages."

He nodded.

"Something I have been contemplating recently is educating you in the ways of the ancient elvhen magic," he replied. "You have many of the tools at hand, but you need to continue to gain strength and willpower so that you can properly develop your magic. There is so much more that you don't know. But, If there is a single elf in this age that should have the arcane knowledge of Arlathan, it is  _you."_

He gestured for her to walk with him. She remained close by his side, her heart tight like the taut rope tugging on her emotions as her mind raced with questions.

"When we sat together last night, I wanted nothing but to reveal myself," the silver-eyed god admitted. "Especially when you alluded to us in conversation."

"You were testing me, weren't you? To see if I would run in fear, fight in anger, or give the benefit of the doubt," she intuited in hindsight. He smirked, affirming her keen observation.

"I wasn't going to visit you last night, knowing you would likely need time to unlock the tome," he explained. A soft smile tugged at the corners of his lips as a another confession poised itself. "But after watching you in the temple, when you discovered the book...I simply couldn't stay away."

The Lady Lavellan eyed him, fighting a smug smile that threatened to give her heart away.

"Well, I finally deduced that Fen'Harel, being closely linked to the Fade, may guard his story with such magic. So I finally tried unveiling the pages...literally," she sniffed in amusement as she held up her left hand.

"I am pleased you were quick to discern the key spell," the handsome god replied. "But I failed to give you enough time to translate. I assume you are still weak with written elvish. For that I only have my own impatience and selfishness to blame."

"Most of us don't get a couple of millennia to learn as you have, Solas," she jested lightly.

He chuckled at her jibe, the sound of his mirth bringing back memories of their time together. It was welcome and familiar as they naturally slipped back into the synchronicity they once had.

"That's true," he agreed, taking her hand. "And I sometimes lose sight of my advantage. For that, I am sorry." Guiding her casually through the cavern, he headed closer to the waterfall. Something was hidden just behind the falls: an odd old painting of a dragon.

"To make it up to you, I am going to do what I  _meant_  to do the first time we were here. There was a very particular reason we came all the way to Crestwood, specifically to this cavern," he revealed with a gesture toward the hand-drawn image.

"The paintings...? Do they tell a story?" she inquired, intuiting the explanation.

"Indeed, they do," he began as she listened curiously. "The ones the elves refer to as the gods, like the 'Creators' and myself, we are basically Elvhen who have achieved the ultimate levels of capability. We were once mortal, but have gained extended life and power through the mastery of magic."

"What about the Forgotten Ones?" she asked.

"They are something else entirely, which is in the book. For brevity's sake we can discuss that later," he replied, quickly returning to the subject at hand. "One of the powers that many of these self-proclaimed deities used, especially Mythal, was shape-shifting into dragons."

"Which is why they are regarded today as sacred creatures," she interjected. He gave her a nod.

"Precisely," he said, turning and leading her back along the water's edge and around to another painting. "But like I have alluded to before, the so-called immortals, among whom I unfortunately must count myself, were self-absorbed by our power. It started when the lower elvhen began worshiping us. When others so willingly bend to your word, it becomes easy to abuse ones influence. It gradually evolved into many of them enslaving elvhen for their own devices, allowing their own religious sects."

"From which the vallaslin, shrines, and other traditions originate," Lavellan recalled, touching her face that now bared no trace of the false tradition.

"Do you now understand why I wanted so badly to relieve you of it? I was the only one who was appalled by the idea of enslaving others like Falon'Din, Elgar'nan and the rest of your glorified pantheon. I absolutely detest the idea of taking away the free will of other cognizant beings," he explained, the disdain evident in his voice as he gestured toward the image of what looked like elves, trudging forward with no minds and no hearts, stained with blood. "But you already knew that of me. Those gods the elves worship today, they were horrendous creatures, who cared nothing but advancing themselves. They took advantage of all those who saw them as deities."

"So, is it true...the part of the story about locking them all away, the Creators and the Forgotten Ones?"

It was so hard to admit the truth of his failings. But if trust was to be built again, and understanding achieved, he would have to loosen his pride, and bear the pain of guilt.

"Yes, save Mythal, whose spirit had survived through maternal lineages...with the hope that in eliminating the oppressors, the Elvhen could live freely," he replied, disappointment seeping into his words. "I hoped for a rebellion against the oppression of the gods. But what ended up taking place at Arlathan was as Abelas had described..."

"We fought amongst ourselves," the inquisitor stated.

"Yes. The devotees against the rebellion, they destroyed each other, taking most of the true nature of Elvhen culture with it. Sealing the seven all away took much of my power. So I slept for centuries, and explored the far corners of the Fade. And when I awoke..."

Lavellan suddenly understood his words to her, as they discussed her noble intentions of leading the Inquisition. She finally empathized, knowing what he meant by it all.

"You found the future you shaped to be worse than what was?"

His heart's burden lightened as he realized that for once, the choice he had made-that of honesty and forthrightness-was the correct one. The outcome was the one he had hoped for. She was hearing him out, not pushing him away and resenting him for what he had done.

"You remembered what I had said, vhenan. I am grateful," he said sounding suddenly melancholy. "Well, the next bit of truth is what hits close to home for the Inquisition."

He sighed, staring at the ancient paintings near the cavern entrance for a moment, steeling his resolve, before turning back to her.

"Remember when I mentioned the orbs were linked to the gods? The orb was what helped me seal the gods away. I was powerful enough to use it then. But when I woke, I was still a mere shade of my true power. I gave the orb to one who held more power at the time, in hopes that he would unlock them for me, and I could begin correcting my mistakes. But he took the orb and ran."

Dumbfounded at what she was hearing, she held her hand to her forehead in disbelief.

"You... _gave_  Corypheus the orb?"

"There's great irony there: The one called the God of Deception, being deceived himself, by a Tevinter Magister," he pointed out wryly.

"So yet another of your 'legendary mistakes'?" she replied, trying to reconcile that everything she had been through in the last few years had been because the Dread Wolf made an incredibly horrendous judgement of someone's character. "There's a saying, Solas: 'If you want something done right, do it yourself.' And unfortunately, acting only as a catalyst and not following through is what brought our world to this."

His nose crinkled indignantly, as if her words were a cup of tea. But a sough of breath loosed his ego, making way for the guilt hiding just beneath the surface. She took a moment to comprehend the weight of responsibility that rest on his shoulders.

"Solas, you're so incredibly talented and knowledgeable-and obviously more powerful than you ever let on. What drove you to make such horrible choices?"

"I think the greatest irony of it all may lie in this answer: Pride. I was arrogant and stubborn in my younger days. Experience has wheedled away at me, but I know I can still can be both, very much so," he answered, his brow furrowing below the skull circlet that rested at his hair line.

It was very rare that she saw Solas ever look defeated.

"Solas, I don't know what to say. It's all so overwhelming," she confessed, brushing the side of his arm. "I went through many feelings after you left: Anger, Dejection, Reasoning, Hope...Loneliness. I just couldn't understand why you would tell me you love and trust me, then leave without doing the most important thing of all."

She pondered everything they'd been through together, all the lessons they had learned from each other.

"But I guess it's better late than never, you giving me the truth," she said, surrendering to her heart. "But where have you gone, now?"

"I visited the Arbor Wilds first. After talking to Mythal, I decided that if I am to regain enough power, she needed to help me directly, rather than indirectly as in the past," the regal wolf replied with a hint of a sneer.

With curiosity piqued, the elvhen inquisitor raised a brow at her former lover's vague statement. Noting her subtle urging for further explanation, he let loose the final bit of truth to complete the greatest act of trust he'd ever commit in his long life.

"I have absorbed Mythal's spirit. She no longer exists as Mythal, in any form, as I have always held more power over her. But her power in its own right will lend itself to me when I am able to set things straight," he said trying to ignore the shock marring his lover's features and quickly changing the subject. "But as for my current location, I am technically far north, in the old Arlathan Forest."

"By setting things straight, do you mean to unleash the ancient ones? Because that is likely not a good idea anymore. Didn't you lock them away for being abusers of power? What's to say that they wouldn't be the next 'Corypheus'?"

"That... _was_  actually my plan for quite some time and I still wonder if it could be beneficial in some way," he admitted with hesitation. "But once again, since I...since  _we_..." Solas paused in consideration of his words. "I have grown much in the last century or so. But,  _you,_  vhenan, have shown me that there are much more intelligent and reasonable ways to bring about progress."

Her body tingled, alight with the feeling that everything could be getting back on the right track. Overflowing with longing, she let her request tumble from her lips.

"Well then, Solas, would you consider returning?"

His eyes lit up, in a way she had only seen as he had gazed upon her and called her beautiful in this very grove. Her words flowing freely from deep within.

"Your mind, your spirit and will...your heart. The people need you. The inquisiton needs you... _I_ need you."

The noble wolf leaned down and placed a soft, lingering kiss on her forehead, taking a moment to breath in her scent.

"Do you mean to suggest fixing the world, and all of my mistakes  _together?"_  A hint of dry wit and amusement laced his rhetorical question.

He pulled away slowly and the lovely Lavellan lifted her chin meet his lips with hers. Gentle pressure gave way to the many months of yearning. Tongues tangled in a playful dance as they rejoiced in their reunion. Lithe fingers laced themselves into newly found thick dark tresses. She found it enthralling and sensual, adding exponentially to the emotional experience. It had been too long since she had felt his familiar touch.

In just a few nights, the great Fen'Harel had refound his footing, in tandem once again with the one person who made a difference. He gathered her in his arms, against his chest and held her tightly.

"Ar lath ma," he whispered. "Ar lath ma, vhenan."

She closed her eyes, reveling in his warmth, and returning the desperate embrace.

And when she opened them, it was dawn at Skyhold.


End file.
